


It Was Almost a Bar Fight

by Yeggnog



Series: Chhut Kûn!!! A Thunderbolt Fantasy MMA AU [1]
Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inaccurate MMA, M/M, Mixed Martial Arts, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeggnog/pseuds/Yeggnog
Summary: Mixed Martial Arts AU:Sha Wusheng used to be a legend.Used to, up until he got his ass kicked in by both Lin Xueya and Mie Tianhai, that is.As he watched his career crumble in his very own hands, Wusheng spots a bright light at the end of the tunnel.Or, uh, everywhere. It's kind of hard to tell.
Relationships: Setsu Mu Sho | Shā Wú Shēng/Sho Fu Kan | Shāng Bù Huàn
Series: Chhut Kûn!!! A Thunderbolt Fantasy MMA AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759498
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	It Was Almost a Bar Fight

“Life is a weird and lovely thing. Sometimes the most unexpected things can occur right before your eyes, but you wouldn’t even notice how monumental it is until years later, after it changed your life.”

But Sha Wusheng never knew that.

What he knew at that moment was the burning sensation of the alcohol pouring down his throat, scorching his esophagus with every gulp.

The world twisted into an illegible blur.

He threw back another shot.

The world twisted and turned, the ground faded then returned as the weight of the table pulled him closer, gravity grappling his face until he touched its cold, wooden surface. The night had settled in long ago, those who paid their patronage during the happy hours had long since gone home.

It’s just him.

It’s always just him.

As he basked in chilling loneliness, a familiar voice echoed quietly beside him. But inside the empty bar, the echos felt like cars on a bustling street.

“Hey man, you ok?"

The question jolted Wusheng awake form his drunken trance. As he reeled himself over to face the voice, he registered a blurry silhouette.

There’s a hat.

A jacket.

It’s a slumped man.

“Jesus Christ, you’re wasted.”

There was no detectable malice in the man's voice, no. It was calm, soothing, even. Cooing in the dim bar light as the owner of the voice gently shook Wusheng out of his trance, his movements were light and gentle.

But for some reason, he felt a nagging rage bubbling within his stomach.

"Don't. Touch me."

He launched himself towards the direction of the figure, his arms felt like nothing but a pair of suspended lead blocks, flinging and tied to some matted hemp rope. His punches were heavy and aimless, as words fumbled out of his mouth in unflattering staccatos.

He groaned, “I’ll punch the fucking shit out of you!”

“Jesus, I’m just sitting here,” The man spoke, “But goodness, with an attitude like that, there's no wonder why Mie Tianhai wiped the floor with your ass.”

In a fit of rage, Wusheng flailed his arms further, aiming for the man’s face,

“AGRUH!”

The jarring movement projected him far away from the tables, crashing onto the figure like a half-lit cannonball. His knees slammed into the wooden floor as he grabbed on to the man’s jacket, arms swinging aimlessly as he fruitlessly attempted to secure a grapple.

In a flash, His vision dimmed, he felt a shadow pressed lightly against his face, disconnecting what little grip he had on the jacket.

The gravity of the ground wrapped around his legs

then his back.

Then,

  
  


His head.

  
  


He braced for landing.

  
  


Just as he fell, something pulled him against the gravity, halting whatever disaster that might’ve ensued from the crash. The pure strength from the hands wrapped itself tightly against Wusheng’s shoulders, swiftly lifting him back onto the stool.

As he rose from the ground, the world around him swirled and twisted.

Twisted,

  
  


and twisted.

  
  


And swirled.

  
  


flying, blurring, blaring, the bottles and ceiling and everything around him danced, as if he was staring into a bright light through a broken kaleidoscope, stepping into the maddening chaos with nothing but the hands on his shoulders grounding him.

“Careful.”

“I think I'm gonna hurl.”

“Oh geez,” The voice became urgent, the hands slowly melted into Wusheng’s shoulders, extending to his back, the warmth and shadows shielding him from the light as it lifted him off the barstool.

When he came to, he felt the burning sensation once more through his throat, rushing out from his stomach, and into a toilet bowl.

“Goddamn, who even drinks like this…?”

Another wave of discomfort stifled whatever retort Wusheng had thought of, throwing him back to the toilet bowl as he emptied himself. As he knelt there, he felt a light graze on the side of his head and an odd sense of cleanliness from his face despite the mess that was occurring.

That guy lifted his hair out of his face.

“Hrgn...”

“You good?”

He nodded as the man helped him to his feet, the lights are no longer blaring in his eyes, it was pale and weak against the dark bathroom ground. The man helped him wash his hands, then steadily guided him back to the bar table.

“Bartend--”

“Hey, you’ve drunk enough for tonight,” The man spoke, his hands lifted in midair as he waved the bartender over, “Bartender, give this guy some water, please. And some food if you guys still serve any. I’d like to have an Old Fashioned, on the rocks.”

[…Who the hell drinks Old Fashioned on the rocks?]

“Who the hell are you?”

“Hm?” The man peered at Wusheng, grinning as he spoke, “Is this how new fighters thank people nowadays?”

The world still swayed around him as discomfort clouded Wusheng’s vision, as he turned, a cup of water and a plate of melon seeds appeared before him, “Who are you? Are you just some crazy fan or some shit?” He chugged the water as if it was alcohol, “Old challenger who came back to gloat?”

He slammed the glass back onto the table and started to gnaw at the seeds, “Fuck it, I don’t care who you are, I’m done with MMA. Fuck off, find a new fighter to piss off. I’m done.”

“Well, you’re not wrong that I’m a fan.”

The man looked around, his eyes lighted up as the bartender quickly placed the whiskey drink on the table, removing himself from the increasing tension.

“Man, it’d be pretty disrespectful of me to drink with my hat on, wouldn’t it?”

Wusheng snorted at the comment as he spat out a seed husk, but his eyes widened as the man removed his hat.

...

[What the fuck.]

Before him, sat a man with greying hairs. The man had a perfectly groomed beard, and a pair of kind, grey eyes.

But he wasn’t just any guy.

No.

He smiled and nodded at Wusheng as he swirled his drink.

“You’re. You’re Shang Buhuan. The Sword Swallower.”

The man grimaced as he took a sip from his drink, “Agh, it’s so weird to hear that nowadays. ‘Sword Swallower’... I’m surprised that you remember, though,” But as the alcohol hits his tongue, the grimace melted away into a surprised smile, “Oh wow! This is really good! Man, you’ve got some good taste in bars, Wusheng.”

At that, Sha Wusheng’s jaw dropped. As he gawked at the man, the seed that he once nibbled on fell through his fingers, landing right on to the table.

“You know my name.”

Buhuan chippered as he took another sip from his drink, ignoring Wusheng’s comment, “Man! This is amazing, it’s been a while since I drank something this good.”

He quickly rubbed his nose as he swirled his drink again, ignoring Wusheng's piercing stare, “Buddy, lemme tell you a secret, I’m technically supposed to be at bed rest right now, but I can’t be bothered. I ripped my shoulders, not my legs.”

“No, wait,” Wusheng rose his arms, surrendering to his own disbelief, “You’re Shang Buhuan, The Sword Swallower, you’re the motherfucker who beat your way into the big leagues won and 26 championships in a row.”

“Technically, it’s only 19 championships, not in a row.”

“No- shit, you’re not counting the wins you got in Xi You--,” Wusheng spluttered, “Why are you here and what do you want from me?”

“Well,” Buhuan shrugged, “Before you, uh, told me to fuck off, I was gonna ask you if you want to join me on the next Dong Li UFC event,” He gulped his drink, swiftly emptying the glass.

“I want to coach you.”

As Buhuan’s voice settled, the world started to spin again. The pulses in Wusheng’s hands grew heavier and heavier as he struggled to steady himself, “This is a joke. Right?”

Buhuan shrugged, “No, not that I’m aware of.”

He quickly scanned the room. No camera crew, no one, the room was basked in the tense silence with nothing except for the clinks of drinking glasses in the sink, and the ticking clock.

Ticking.

Tick.

Tick.

  
  


It’s 2 AM.

“Sirs, I’m afraid it’s going to be closing time soon.”

“Oop, sorry about that,” Buhuan quickly responded, pointing at Sha Wusheng, “I’ll pay for his drinks.”

The transaction went quickly and smoothly as Wusheng stared in disbelief, his mind was frozen in shock as Buhuan lifted him from the barstool and out from the bar.

“Where do live?”

Wusheng gulped, his throat had lost what little moisture was left from shock as he wobbled around on the sidewalk, holding tightly to Buhuan for support.

“Why?”

Buhuan quickly glanced at Wusheng's disheveled state, “I’m calling a cab for you.”

“No, I mean, why train me?” Wusheng slurred, “I got my ass kicked in. Twice in a row. My coach-dad dropped me and my friend abandoned me,” He heaved, arms shaking as he struggled to hold onto Buhuan, “What’s in it for you? Why?" His voice grew frantic as he grappled on to Buhuan's shoulder, ignoring the growing wince on the man's face, "Is it because you needed credentials? Desperate to rebrand polished trash? Is that it?”

Just as he was about the shake Buhuan, Wusheng felt a quick, painful jolt under his arm. The sudden movement broke his grapple, rendering his arms limp as the support that once propped him upright disappeared, his knees started to buckle as he braced for impact. With another jolt, he felt himself sway and flop as Buhuan grabbed him by his underarm, steadying him, repositioning, shifting and sliding Wusheng's balance from his hand to arm to shoulder. In less than a minute, Wusheng was no longer grabbing on, but instead was leaning comfortably on Shang Buhuan. As he leaned against him, his ears caught a tiny hiss and a quiet crack, just barely audible in the fray of the night.

He then heard a deep sigh.

“I’ve seen you fight, Wusheng. You’ve got skills. You got potential,” He watched as Shang Buhuan quickly tapped his phone, the cold light framing the shape of his face, “While I don’t like to trash talk the other coaches, I think you got a lot of untapped potential that your coach never bothered to deal with. With the right coach, you can do great things. Now tell me where you live, k?”

“I...” he slurred again, the world continued to pulse around him as his vision dimmed further, the lights from the sidewalks blended into the night sky, “Uh...”

He felt himself go limp.

Just as he went out cold, he heard a faint voice.

_ “Holy shit-- wh- hi yes hello?” _

Fuck it. He’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow.

  
  


Today, he got himself a new coach.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ...welcome to the madness :')
> 
> this idea has been brewing in my head since the beginning of the year, now I've finally got the motivation to write it hgsjkfgs 
> 
> the simplicity of my language was almost a crime, the lack of actual MMA + the inaccuracy of the system was almost punishable :pensive_emoji:
> 
> but, thank you sm for reading (;v;)❤️


End file.
